Good Pain
I just hiked 41 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail, the 2,650 mile trail running along the US West Coast from the Mexican to Canadian border. Don't let my smile deceive you. It was damn hard. The heat, the distance, the heavy pack, the elevation, the dehydrated food. And don't let the kindly look of my hiking partner deceive you. He's as hardcore as they come, a military man and "through hiker" (a.k.a. bad-ass hiking the full length of the trail), as opposed to me, a "section hiker" (a.k.a. wimpy-ass not hiking the full length of the trail). If I didn't make it, he may have stopped long enough to bury my dead body beside the trail, or maybe not. It's survival of the fittest out there and I was not the fittest. I'm not sure if I loved it or hated it. Maybe it's too soon. Like asking a woman right after labour whether she wants another baby.
Night three. I was laying in my tent on my deflated Thermarest after two of the most physically demanding days of my life, still damp with sweat but beginning to feel the chill of the night, listening to a bear explore the boundaries of our camping spot. I asked myself, why do I seek out hard things? In the moment, it was a rhetorical accusation. Now back in my cozy home office, I respond by rote.
I want to expand my horizons, internally and externally, until I die, and nothing does that like experiencing hard things.
With the pain of my most recent hard thing still fresh, I wonder... is that a limiting belief?! I love the first bit about expanding my horizons. Expansion is an element of a life well-lived. If we live the same sort of day, in the same sort of way, what value does one more day have? That doesn't mean that life needs to be a string of wild adventures. I loved being a mom to young kids which can absolutely look like the same sort of day, lived the same sort of way. But while those days were filled with routine, I was changing. Motherhood expanded my capacity for practical love, for profound commitment. My horizons have also expanded through education, travel, and relationships. Maybe expansion doesn't require hard things?! Not so fast, Honey. It's the challenging aspects of motherhood, education, travel, and relationships that have most transformed me. The unrelenting nature of parenting young kids, hours of study and pressure to preform at university, discomfort of unfamiliar people, languages, and surroundings while travelling, conflicts in relationships. Dammit. It's true. Hard is a prerequisite for transformation.
Lucky us, life serves up plenty of hard things, death, illness, divorce, and all manner of failures. Signing up for more hard stuff might seem stupid, but there's a unique magic in elective hardship. Choosing a hard thing is bloody scary. Pushing through the fear requires courage. Emerging out the other side builds resilience. Courage and resilience build capacity for more hard stuff and hard stuff is transformative.
Through-hike? Hell yes, sign me up (she says in a voice quacking with fear).
PS Awol (my hiking partner), was wonderful. I'm sure he would have buried my dead body. And I'm still flying high on that one glowing compliment he gave me at the end. "You did well. Hiking with me is no joke."